Lord of Shadows The Dark Artifices 2

Oh well. She straightened her back. Shadowhunter work was often dirty; surely they wouldn’t be expecting her to look pristine. Though, she realized as she glanced around, they certainly did. Their uniforms were like regular gear, but with military-style jackets over them, bright with metal buttons and sashed crossways with a pattern of vine staffs. The back of each jacket bore the symbol of the Centurion’s family name: a sandy-haired boy had a wolf on his back, a girl with deep brown skin had a circle of stars. The boys had short hair; the girls wore their hair braided or tied back. They looked clean, efficient, and a little alarming.

Diana was chatting with two Centurions by the door to the Sanctuary: a dark-skinned boy with a Primi Ordines insignia, and the boy with the wolf jacket. They turned to wave at Diego as he came down the stairs, followed by Cristina and the others.

“I can’t believe they’re here already,” Emma muttered.

“Be gracious,” said Diana in a low voice, sweeping up to them. Easy for her to say, thought Cristina. She wasn’t covered in dust. She took hold of Emma by the wrist, seized Julian with her other hand, and marched them off to mingle with the Centurions, thrusting Julian toward a pretty Indian girl with a gold stud in her nose, and depositing Emma in front of a dark-haired girl and boy—very clearly twins—who regarded her with arched eyebrows.

The sight of them made Cristina think of Livvy and Ty, though, and she glanced around to see if they were peering down from the second floor as they often did. If they were, she couldn’t see them; they’d probably gone off to hide, and she didn’t blame them. Luggage was strewn all around the floor: Someone was going to have to show the Centurions to their rooms, welcome them, figure out how to feed them . . . .

“I didn’t realize,” Mark said.

“Didn’t realize what?” Diego said; he had returned the greeting of the two boys who had been talking to Diana earlier. The boys started across the room toward them.

“How much like soldiers Centurions look,” said Mark. “I suppose I was thinking of them as students.”

“We are students,” Diego said sharply. “Even after we graduate, we remain scholars.” The other two Centurions arrived before Mark could say anything else; Diego clapped them both on the back and turned to introduce them. “Manuel, Rayan. This is Cristina and Mark.”

“Gracias,” said the boy with the sandy hair—it was a light brown, streaked and bleached by the sun. He had an easy, sideways grin. “Un placer conocerte.”

Cristina gave a little gasp. “You speak Spanish?”

“Es mi lengua materna.” Manuel laughed. “I was born in Madrid and grew up in the Institute there.”

He did have what Cristina thought of as a Spanish accent—the softening of the c sound, the way gracias sounded like grathiath when he thanked her. It was charming.

Across the room, she saw Dru, holding Tavvy by the hand—they’d asked her to stay in the library and watch him, but she’d wanted to see the Centurions—come up to Emma and tug on her sleeve, whispering something in her ear.

Cristina smiled at Manuel. “I almost did my study year in Madrid.”

“But the beaches are better here.” He winked.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cristina saw Emma go up to Julian and awkwardly tap his shoulder. She said something to him that made him nod and follow her out of the room. Where were they going? She itched to follow them, not to stay here and make conversation with Diego’s friends, even if they were nice.

“I wanted the challenge of speaking English all the time—” Cristina began, and saw Manuel’s expression change—then Rayan took her sleeve and drew her out of the way as someone hurtled up to Diego and grabbed his arm. It was a white girl, pale and round-cheeked, with thick brown hair pulled back in a tight bun.

She crashed into Diego’s chest, and he went a sort of watery color, as if all the blood had drained from his face. “Zara?”

“Surprise!” The girl kissed his cheek.

Cristina was starting to feel a little dizzy. Maybe she’d gotten too much sun out at Malcolm’s. But really, it hadn’t been that much sun.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” Diego said. He still seemed starkly shocked. Rayan and Manuel were starting to look uncomfortable. “You said—you said you’d be in Hungary—”

“Oh, that.” Zara dismissed Hungary with a wave. “Turned out to be completely ridiculous. A bunch of Nephilim claiming their steles and seraph blades were malfunctioning; really it was just incompetence. So much more important to be here!” She looped her arm through Diego’s and turned to Cristina and Mark, smiling brightly. She had her hand tucked into Diego’s elbow, but the smile on her face turned stiff as Cristina and Mark stood in silence, staring, and Diego looked increasingly as if he were going to throw up.

“I’m Zara Dearborn,” she said, finally, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure you’ve heard about me. I’m Diego’s fiancée.”

5

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